Raza 1-12
by Blizdal
Summary: The Raza are not aliens, it's just a ship whose insides are crawling with bad people. AU after Season 1.


AN: This is AU after season 1. UST and pre-slash, but nothing really happens, and it is not the focus of the story so I count it as Gen.

Fair warning: I meant to post this before Season 2 aired, since it was almost finished, but I got a writer's block and it didn't happen. Then I decided not to watch Season 2 until I finished writing this. Which happened yesterday. A few days before _Season 3_ is supposed to air. If the ending feels a bit rushed, it's because it, quite frankly, is. I knew that if I didn't finish it now, I never will, and it felt like a waste. I have no knowledge of Season 2, since I actually managed to avoid spoilers, so I am well aware that this entire thing is probably OOC as hell. Which is to be expected, since I have missed an entire season of events and character development and any character background that might have been reveled.

* * *

Two hits One. That is how they meet.

(She is utterly unapologetic.)

* * *

They discover what planet they were supposed to go to and they go. They meet the miners for the first time and One says _So why don't we just lower our weapons_ , and they do. They may hesitate, but they do.

* * *

Three doesn't think much of One. He sure is pretty, though.

* * *

Two is arrogant but she has some cause to be and it grates. One questions her leadership and she gets in his face and he wishes he could tell her he'd do a better job but he knows he'd have probably led them all to their deaths.

She assumes control like it was never anyone else's to begin with and that…that is probably true. She was probably the one who led them before they lost their memories.

He doesn't like being led.

None of them do.

* * *

The miners are not stupid. The newcomers were supposedly looted by the raiders and then later they show up with a bunch of guns. They don't say anything.

You don't look a gift horse in the mouth, even if it appears wooden and hollow.

If you are desperate enough, it doesn't matter.

(The horse wasn't hollow. Many of them died anyway.)

* * *

One steps between two armed groups, raises his arms and says _Hold on_ , and people do.

They still end up shooting at each other, but they pause, when he asks, and there's power in that, great, enticing power that makes One's heart beat faster and louder than ever.

He doesn't dare think too much about it.

He is a good man, he knows. He _knows_ , okay? And good men don't like-

* * *

Four makes a man talk and he just wishes it took more than some threats. There's a rage monster in him, tucked inside his heart, and he wants to let it out, for a bit. Even monsters need to breathe.

* * *

Six delights in the thought of blowing something up. It's a certain death to try and take down the Ferrous Corporation ship but his eyes shine shine shine.

"He liked to blow shit up," Three would say later, when Six is dead, "that much was true."

Four would nod once quickly, decidedly, "If you want to successfully infiltrate a bunch of murderers, you have to have a bit of murder inside." He would glance at One, significantly, an One wouldn't bristle the way he would have a couple of years ago.

There would be too much truth in Four's words and too much blood on One's hands for bristling.

* * *

One calls Three trigger-happy. It takes him a couple of missions to realize that he's not, not really. Three is quick to grab a weapon, but he is not quick to fire it.

* * *

They said that One is not like them, but-

The gun doesn't feel alien in his hand the first time he takes it (he wishes it does).

It fits. He doesn't feel the urge to name it, like Three does, but the gun _fits_. When he aims and fires, he hits. He doesn't flinch at the noise, and the recoil doesn't take him by surprise. Something like that doesn't come without practice, without experience.

When he kills, there is no crushing guilt and horror. He doesn't even blink. His hands are steady, his voice strong and he doesn't look back. There's a feel of routine to it. It takes him too long to notice it. It is Five's reaction when she first kills that clues him in.

He is supposed to be Derrick Moss, but he doesn't know who that is. A business man? A grieving husband?

He successfully infiltrated one of the most notorious gangs.

That tells something about him. He's not sure he likes what it tells about him.

* * *

He will never remember that as Derrick he hired people to teach him how to shoot, how to throw a punch, how to walk and talk, how to behave like Jace Corso.

He didn't forget how to throw a punch or how to shoot when he woke up with no memories, but the rest? The rest was gone. His natural mannerisms were far more ingrained.

Thankfully, the skills remained. Six helped him become better, but he had something to work with.

(Derrick killed before coming aboard Raza. Portia Lin took one look at him and she knew. She smiled, and something in him smiled back.

Something in him _smiled back_.)

* * *

Two lures him with sultry looks and naked skin and is surprised when he takes the bait.

* * *

When she comes to him, he is surprised. When she rejects him, later, he is not. She almost convinces him that he has read too much into what they were doing. Except, she knew what he was about when she went to him, she _knew_. It wasn't implied, it was _said_.

It is frustrating how she changes her mind every five minutes.

He feels used. It doesn't make him feel better to see the regret in her eyes. He doesn't know whether she regrets hurting him or bothering with him at all.

* * *

Three is more honest than all of them combined. It's strange and worrisome and more than a little surprising.

One doesn't want to admit it. One doesn't admit it.

* * *

It's easy to moralize when it is about someone else's actions, he discovers. It's easy to justify doing bad things when you are doing them to bad people.

(He doesn't shoot Three when he gets a chance. He saves him instead.)

It turns out it's not so easy after all.

He went to terrible lengths to avenge the woman he loved and now that he has a chance, he doesn't love her anymore. She is a photograph on a screen and Three is a gun at his back and he is worth more.

* * *

The others look at him indulgently. He annoys them, often, but he is not a threat.

 _You don't know me_ , he thinks and says and they laugh. They are dangerous people and think that he is not.

He wants to prove that he is, but he can't.

Maybe in some other gang he would be good enough, but on Raza he is not.

They like him, though, despite the moralizing, or maybe because of it. He is the voice of their conscience; their own voices are, most of the time, too quiet to be heard.

* * *

He asks Five why she doesn't leave.

"We are a family," she says, like she knows what that word means.

Then Six betrays them and something bright dies in her eyes. She doesn't call them a family anymore, not even when they actually become one.

Six spoke with her after they were arrested. No one knows what was said, but he left her cell grief stricken. He was fond of her. The fact that he was a part of Galactic Authority didn't change that.

She cornered him and pulled a gun on him when they were escaping the prison, but she couldn't shoot him.

Four would have done it for her if he had had a weapon or the time to strangle him.

Six lives and Five _changes_ , and they all hate to see it.

Later, on Raza, they gather around her and try to console her, but nothing works. She runs out of the room in tears. _Damn you, Six_ , Three thinks and munches aggressively. All the green protein bars are his now.

Couple of years later, they leave Five on the ship and they go out. They tell her they are going on a job and she doesn't believe them.

She's right not to, because they corner Six on a lawless space station, all four of them, and Two leans close and whispers in his ear, _You were one of us_ , and slices his throat.

Five is angry when they come back, angry and hurt, "Why didn't you take me with you? I'm not a child anymore!"

But she is. It's been two years since they all woke up on the ship with no memories, but she's still a teenager. Not for long, though, she's grown, but they didn't leave her behind because of her age. She had loved Six, as family. They simply wanted to spare her the pain of seeing a member of her family die.

"He asked if _the Kid_ was okay," Two tells her and Five stops breathing for a moment because no one has called her that since they escaped the prison. "I told him the Kid was dead," Two tells her, "He cried."

Two is the cruelest of them all.

Two was manufactured and her creators never taught her kindness. Five is trying, but it's hard, and not because Two is incapable of it but because she chooses not to be kind when she could be.

* * *

In time One becomes their main Negotiator, mostly because of his earnest face, harmless appearance and lots of guts. He traps their targets with his words and most of the time he doesn't even have to use a gun. When he does it's beautiful, because he was always good but he has gotten better and he is _fast_. Three looks and thinks _Damn_ , because guns are his loves and One is a Pretty Boy and-

One smirks at him because he _knows_ and nothing ever happens between them but it feels like it could, like it might, like it _will_.

Three thinks he wouldn't mind even if it never does, because _this_ , this is _good_ and any more might make them both combust or kill each other.

Two looks at them, something strange in her eyes. It might be jealousy, it might be lust, but Three knows that if she lets it spill into her hands he will put bullets into them until they are nothing but bloody tatters.

He likes her, he really does, but two years ago she had them both and it's too late for her now. It's too late.

Three watches Two through hooded eyes and she doesn't flinch away from the threat-

 _she is a murderer, just like he is_

-but she backs off.

"No killing the Captain," Four tells Three when Two leaves, but he doesn't sound particularly firm. It sounds more like _don't be an idiot_ , instead of _don't you dare_ , so Three is not worried.

* * *

They don't have a pilot anymore, now that Six is gone, so Android tries to teach them. Not all of them have an aptitude for it. Four turns out to already know it, even though he doesn't fly as well as Six did. Three is hopeless and Five is just slightly better. Two gets the mechanics of it quickly but has no flair. One surprises everyone by how quickly he gets it. Three accuses him of having known it all along, of it being something he knew how to do before he lost his memories, but One denies it. He doesn't use the controls instinctively and nothing feels familiar. He _knows_ that this is something new to him.

(It is. Derrick Moss always paid someone to fly him where he wanted to go. Someone in a neatly pressed uniform, in a gorgeous luxury ship. Spotless in every way. Not like One, who has oil smudges on his face, and bloodstains on his clothes; murder on his soul).

When someone attacks them he performs evasive maneuvers he was never taught and when he blasts them out of the sky he laughs, and it is a joyous sound to everyone on Raza _but_ the hostage from the enemy ship who curls in on himself and trembles.

When he is done, One docks the Marauder on the Raza and joins the others. The hostage looks up when he enters, wanting to see the monster that murdered his crew and is surprised when all he sees are kind eyes and an easy smile. _We will not hurt you_ , the man had told him when they had kidnapped him. He doesn't have the air of danger that the captain of this ship and the other two men have. Perhaps this is another crew member, and the pilot didn't dock yet, he thinks as he watches One talking with the others. Then Three says something and One throws his head back and _laughs_.

Devil has a human face, his mother used to say, and his lies are so sweet.

* * *

Four remains their _negotiator_. Cold steel and steady hands; fathomless anger and violence leashed; royalty in blood and the crown on somebody else's head.

* * *

People speak of Raza. They spoke of it even before they all collectively lost their memories, but the stories have transformed and grown and Three smirks, satisfied, when he hears someone in a bar say, in a terrified whisper, _The Raza_. He laughs out loud when they look around to make sure that no monster suddenly materializes and smites them.

(He lays a hand on one of his guns, thoughtfully. He reluctantly and with a deep sigh moves it away when he catches One's glare.)

* * *

One and Three meat Jace Corso, and it is a shock. It is a shock. Corso is a criminal. A murderer. So is One. It's different. It's not the same. It's-

(The worst lies are the ones we tell ourselves.)

"Two of you," Three says later, condescendingly, but there is an after-smile curving his mouth that says _intrigued_.

One ignores him for a week.

* * *

One is playing cards with Five, and it's nice and relaxing-

"What is wrong?" she asks, like she can see into his soul and see the unrest there.

"Nothing."

"It's Three, isn't it?"

He meets her eyes, surprised and she quickly looks down at her cards, and rearranges a few.

"Yeah," he admits, "How did you know?"

She looks up, shyly, "It's always Three with you. It used to be Three and Two, but not lately. Now it's just Three."

He gets angry and wants to deny it, loudly, but she is avoiding his eyes, as if expecting it, and his anger disappears. All that is left is a quiet despair. He is not allowed to like Three.

* * *

Someone needs to go undercover and Two chooses One.

She crosses her arms, daring anyone to challenge her, "We need someone to play a businessman. Derrick Moss is a businessman."

"I do not remember being him."

"I didn't remember piloting a ship yet I knew how to do it. You'll be fine." She gives him a once over and he squirms, uncomfortable. "You'll need a suit."

They get him a suit, a bespoke one because he needs to fit in and their marks were the type of men who'd know the difference.

He puts it on quickly, adjusts the cufflinks and fixes his tie, his hands sure, the movements achingly familiar. When he looks in the mirror he feels wrong. _Must be the face_ , he thinks. The face is his, yet not. He sighs.

Someone knocks loudly on his door. "Move it, Pretty Boy," Three shouts from the other side of the door, "We can't afford to be late."

"I'm coming. Stop shouting," he says, annoyed, and opens the door.

Three raises an eyebrow when he sees him and lets him pass. He lingers behind for a couple of seconds and One can feel the weight of his gaze, heavy.

They go to the canteen together, in silence. When they meet the others, Two gives him an approving look and then quickly goes over the plan again.

Two will go as his assistant and Four as his driver. Three will be pretending to be a cleaner working in the building and Five will stay on board with the android. She is not happy about it, but she is too young to play any believable role, and she knows it.

One will pretend to be the businessman they have previously kidnapped. He will need to close the deal and secure an invitation to the mark's house.

"Any questions?" Two asks and looks around the room.

"I don't think this will work. The man we kidnapped didn't think he would be able to secure the deal. I'm not sure why you think _I_ will be able to." One points out.

"You researched the matter."

"Yes, but-"

Two frowns, "You will make it work."

"Yeah, you're good at talking." Three adds, like he thinks that's all One's good at.

One glares at him for a moment before facing Two again, "What if I don't?"

"Then we go to plan B," Four says, not looking up from where he is playing with his knife.

One doesn't like plan B. Plan B is always murder and mayhem.

Few minutes later they leave. The trip to the meeting place is tense. He looks around the limo, trying to distract himself from what he is convinced is going to be an utter failure.

Two looks nice in a skirt, he notices, but knows better than to tell her so. She catches his eyes wandering but doesn't say anything.

They arrive to the building, go through the security checks and before he knows it, he is going through the big wooden doors of the meeting room. He is the last to arrive and for a moment he thinks they are doomed, finished before they even began but then he takes in the room, takes in all the powerful, wealthy people, the weight of a posh watch on his hands and the softness of the obscenely expensive clothes he is wearing and something _clicks_.

He strides into the room as if he owns it, parries every shot they take at him, buries all their arguments to the ground, outmaneuvers every single one of them.

They thought they had him, actually they would have had the man who was supposed to come, the one whose place he took, but they don't have _him_.

He knows this, knows this feeling of juggling _trillions_ , of handling money and handling people.

" _So, you finally found something you're good at."_ Three remarks and One tries his best to ignore the voice coming from his earbud, but it is _hard_. It feels good to be good at something and to be acknowledged for it. He contains his smile and focuses on the group in front of him.

It's not easy, and it takes hours, but at some point he stops being on the defensive.

At some point he scents _blood_.

(He closes the deal.)

Afterwards, in the limousine, he loosens his tie, sprawls in his seat and tries to control his breathing. He's high on success, his soul light in his own body, almost flying.

He feels eyes on him and looks to see whose, but Two is staring at a tablet and Three-

Three is staring.

One stares back and thinks- He thinks- Was it like this before? Was he like this after every big success? Was he this excited and burning and reaching out to-

 _his wife_

The thought is like a cold shower, putting out his euphoria and arousal and leaving him shaking. His hand drops from where it was reaching out towards Three.

 _Three_. Fuck.

Three looks confused by the sudden change and One closes his eyes, so he can't see his wife's murderer, so he can't see-

* * *

He closed the deal and he has the invitation to the party. That is all that matters.

* * *

"I will go as your plus one," Two says and grimaces at the wording. It is unfortunate, but she really didn't want to say _date_.

Three smirks because he is an asshole.

* * *

It is a big party. Canapés are delicious. The wine doesn't taste anything special to her, but One sighs deeply after the first swallow and smiles contentedly, so that probably means something.

"We should dance," he says and she glances at him sharply.

He is not deterred, "We look suspicious," he explains and when she looks around she sees that he is right. Everyone is dancing. "We can't rob the place for another couple of hours at least. We have to fit in."

"Fine," she says and tugs him to the center of the hall. After a few minutes, she sees an older couple giving them strange glances, but she ignores them. One doesn't seem to mind that she's leading.

After a few songs, most of the people have stopped dancing and have started separating into small groups, talking and drinking and One thugs at her hand and glances to the left, "Let's go schmooze."

She raises an eyebrow, "Schmooze."

One just smiles and leads her towards one group. She lets him. This time.

* * *

They rob the place, taking a couple of obnoxiously expensive artifacts.

* * *

The money helps to hire an army to invade Four's home. He takes his crown bathed in blood of his people.

He decides to stop being a criminal and start being an Emperor. He offers his teammates to build a base on his planet and they do. It is nice to feel the earth beneath one's feet.

They are often there, but never stay for long. Wanderlust is strong within them (battle lust even stronger).

* * *

They go from a job to a job, sometimes leaving a trail of bodies and sometimes not leaving a trace.

Five advocates for no victims and sometimes Two feels merciful and sometimes One plants his feet and stands his ground and says _no_ , _we are not killing anyone,_ with Three in the corner, silent and deadly and waiting for Two to misstep.

Two wishes Four was still with them so she wouldn't get outvoted so easily, and Five wishes One chose not to kill more often, like he used to.

After a while it gets too much for her and she leaves, not sure she will ever come back.

(She does. They pick her up from a beautiful planet, a paradise made real, with scars on her arms, her face, her belly, and hot anger in her heart. They introduce her to the two new crewmembers on board, Ten and Eleven, and she smiles sweetly at them, the same way she smiles when she breaks their fingers one by one when they ignore her _no_. See spaces them after, and through the small window watches as they die.)

* * *

They are short staffed again and finding right people is hard, but they do manage to find one promising candidate. Not a well-known name, still too young to have built a reputation but with lots of skills and guts and a sharp mind. No one around to miss him either.

They offer him a job and stick him in a pod when he says yes. The pod was never mentioned in the offer. Nor was the memory wipe. The current Raza recruits differently than the original one. Blank slate can be a good thing.

"Hello, Twelve," One greets the man when he wakes up, disoriented and confused.

* * *

Twelve meets the others and is told about Four, but when he asks about numbers Six to Eleven, One just shrugs.

"They asked too many questions," Three says and the Captain stifles a laugh. Twelve is oddly charmed. He is a good fit for Raza.

(Twelve is not one of the good guys.)


End file.
